Musings of a dancer
by ShirQuickpaw
Summary: A tragedy has befallen the junkyard. Macavity has laid a fire to which Old Deutoronomy and Gus have fallen victim to. Munkustrap has left the Jellicles in strife in the aftermath and left Tugger to pick up the pieces. Not all Jellicle agree with that... and not all deal with the situation easily ...


**Musings of a dancer**

_**Disclaimer:** CATS and all associated characters are the intelectual property of T. S. Elliot , Andrew Loyd Webber and the Real Useful Group_

~o~

A tragedy has befallen the junkyard. Macavity has laid a fire to which Old Deutoronomy and Gus have fallen victim to. Munkustrap has left the Jellicles in strife in the aftermath and left Tugger to pick up the pieces. Not all Jellicle agree with that... and not all deal with the situation easily ...

~o~

Silence.

Finally silence. Finally I can't hear them anymore. Have my prayers been answered? Or have I just lost my ability to hear?

All theses thoughts, they run through my mind, never ending in a vicious circle, spurred on with the still constant smell of smoke and ashes and the never ending bickering I could hear outside my hideout.

Oh how I can still smell the remains of the fire, can still feel the hot embrace of the flames so close where I had to seek shelter. Too close. I didn't believe I would make it, that I would be another casualty, like those we lost. I had been asleep in my den, when the fire broke out. When the cries and roars outside finally woke me up from my deep slumber, it was too late to leave, too late to run. The entrance to my den was filled with smoke and wave after wave of heat licked down to where I laid, now panic filled with nowhere to run and hide. I crouched into the deepest corner of my den, hissing in fear at the following heat and smoke, glad that I didn't fix that hole there, which provided me with the needed air. Still my den filled with biting black smoke, staining my white fur, making me choke as the flames outside burned itself in the junk heap that inhibited my den.

There was no silence then. Over the roar and hissing of the flames I could hear the cries and shouts of the others. I could hear names being shouted in terror and relief. I even think I heard my name once, but I can't remember. The fire drowned out everything in the end and only its roar remained in my ears. So long till I would enjoy silence again, the roar a constant companion, regardless how small I made myself and how much I pushed my paws against my ears to no longer listen.

This is how they found me. Small, dirty, grey from smoke and ashes, curled into a small ball in that corner of my den. I hazily remember how they guided me outside. I can't remember who, I barely remember the junkyard. It was as if someone else was walking with my body. All I was doing was still hearing fire burning, smelling the smoke, gasping for air. I heard them talking to me, but I couldn't make out the words. My mind was trying to fit what I saw to what I should see and was unable to make the connection.

Then I saw them - Munkustrap, Tugger. It started with them. Tugger was trying to hold back Munkus, but they were arguing, almost fighting, shouting at each other. To me it seemed the fire wasn't finished. It was still burning. Burning through us, in us, but not in a good way. I saw Munkus turning away, leaving. I saw Tugger trying to fit into shoes he never wanted to wear. I saw them start fighting, all of them and the fire roared on in my ears, continued to wreak its havoc among us, but it seemed I was the only one seeing it. Hearing it. That deafening roar now filled with voices and shouts. No longer shouts in terror or fear. Now being shouts in anger, some even in hate. What was happening?

It took me real long to understand what they were saying, what had happened. Who didn't survive the fire. The fire I still saw ... heard ... burning. It wasn't finished with us, the flames were only the beginning, the real fire had only just begun.

This time I wasn't cut off. This time I could run. This time I did. But again the fire proofed to be quicker. Everywhere I turned I found its mark, everywhere I ran, they argued, fought, teared our ... my ... family to pieces. The flames still raging among us and no one seeing it. Oh how I envied those who were the victims of the first wave. They had found the peace I craved know. They have found silence - no more roaring flames, no more roaring shouts of anger.

Finally I found a place to hide from them all. The darkness of the hideout couldn't keep the memories of what I had seen, of what I had heard at bay. But its darkness surrounded me at least like something of a refuge. There, curled into a small ball, I found somewhat rest and oblivion finally drowned out the memories.

Silence.

After I woke up in the darkness the roars which seemed like a constant companion in my mind had finally been muted. No more shouts, no more angry hisses. I don't know how long I have laid here, nor do I know what all has happened in the meantime, but I welcome the silence the oblivion has brought me.

In this silence I can finally start to mourn those who have gone before me, who were victims to the flames. I could feel the tears coming, but now they brought relief together with the silence. Again I close my eyes to the darkness and in the silence I hear the music of the dying swan and I could almost feel myself dancing the movements I have so often rehearsed. I let myself drift with the music in my mind and I don't know if the dance is for them or myself until there is again only...

Silence.

~o~

_Reviews and constructive critics are of course always welcome._


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